The Fiddler (Cold Nights on a Friendly Corner)
by knackstiel
Summary: What separates Dale Jakes from the son he's truly never known is not his job. Jakes likes to pretend that's what it is, but in reality, his undercover work generally ends up being a convenient excuse to stay away from his son and former lover, in turn staying away from parts of himself he wishes he didn't know existed.


What separates Dale Jakes from the son he's truly never known is not his job.

Jakes likes to pretend that's what it is, but in reality, his undercover work generally ends up being a convenient excuse to stay away from his son and former lover, in turn staying away from parts of himself he wishes he didn't know existed.

He's not sure how he would treat a family, act around a family, be with a family. It was easy when it was just Karra and Jakes, all flirting and sex and joking. But then a stick Karra peed on took away all the ease, as soon as the words "We're going to have a family" left her mouth.

Family has always been an abstract concept for DJ. As the only child of two of the most affluent socialites in Seattle, he grew up as the one child in a room of cold, unconcerned, polished, always-busy, often-drinking adults. Throughout his childhood, he attempted to find some semblance of family in other sources. Jakes innocently tried to create a familial bond with the maids and cooks of his parents' house, gaining an immense knowledge of the Spanish language rather than any affection. As a teenager, he turned from his parents, engaging in the Seattle music scene as he attempted to transfer his knowledge of cello and violin to guitar. Jakes found comfort in ceasing to be Dale Jakes IV, musical prodigy child of Marie and Dale Jakes III, as he masqueraded as just another guy with new dreadlocks and a few spare blunts. He could pretend to not be Dale Jakes, the boy without a family, and he could be a guy that played solos like a god, with a devotion to U2 and some local bands, who painted a bit on the side and watched quietly as his supposed friends interacted, comprehending why he could never truly participate. Though he could slip into the role of someone else, he could never abandon the loneliness that was inherently connected with being Dale Jakes.

So Jakes moved on, used his parent's money to get an education, relying on his natural intelligence as he drank and smoked his way through his first two years of college.

He could have gone to Julliard, maybe art school, or spent years debated philosophy and the true nature of modern society. But he spent his time ragtag band or partying students, using his connections to get fake ID's for people who wouldn't bother to remember his name. He wasted his time on companions that traded money for faux affection and on booze and pot and just forgetting what it felt like to have a giant, gaping in your heart. And no one told him that he could be more. No one said, "DJ, if you pulled it together, you could be writing symphonies." There was no "Jakes, you have so much potential." Occasionally, he saw disgust in a professor's eyes as he turned up for a class hungover or high, but they had written him off as a lost cause or trust fund baby.

"Friends" enjoyed his company as he bought shots and funded parties, but Jakes awoke alone in a gutter more often than not, stinking of piss and missing his wallet.

Jakes gave up on the concept of friends at the end of his sophomore year of college, after drinking himself into the hospital a week after finals. No concerned calls or visiting friends. He received a message from his parents' publicist informing him that his mistakes had not graced the pages of any tabloids. Nothing more.

He spent that summer at his apartment, not bothering to return to his parents' house. And his parents didn't ask where he was, what he was doing, the meaning of drunken voicemails, slurred through sobs and pleas to change the past. Jakes got a job at a coffee shop, making lattes and studying the close relationships of his fellow workers as they joked and teased. That was the summer he discovered the Flaw in himself, the one unknowable thing that kept him from finding family, a place to belong. Jakes suspects he'll die without learning what the Flaw actually is, specifically. But he's known of its true existence since that summer so long ago, as he watched others interact and discovered he had never felt like that about other people, been that at ease with anyone, ever even felt at home at all.

Jakes learned to take it in stride. He got a triple major in musical studies, linguistics, and criminal justice rather than attempting to form relationships or think about the pain in his chest, felt as he'd lay awake at night, listening to the music of the city below, melodies he could never understand, rhythms he could never be a part of.

No one cared enough to ask why he was no longer at the bars, why he spent time only at work, the library, or his apartment. More than not caring, former drinking buddies or fellow partiers would not notice his absence.

When the pain of how truly alone he was, crushing his chest as he tried to breathe, became too much, Jakes would find a nice street corner, set his violin case on the ground, and play tunes he'd created, ones so mournfully sad they brought tears to the eyes of passerby.

This is the first mask Jakes enjoyed wearing, over the Son, the Drinker, the Pothead, the Bank, the Socialite. For a few hours, he could touch people with his music, the melancholy melodies of his own design. It was the first time in Jakes' life that he felt he was communicating with others. People gave him admiring looks in response to the music, almost like conversations between close friends. Change and small bills were thrown in his case, like Christmas presents from warm, loving relatives. A crowd might gather, like supporters at recitals that had always gone unattended.

But the cold chill of Seattle nights would return to Jakes as he realized he was still utterly alone, though the artificial human interaction could get him through a few weeks before he'd need another fix.

Those nights on a corner brought him to undercover work, realizing how much he loved playing a part, even when he couldn't be the Fiddler. More than anything, he loved slipping the skin of Dale Jakes, pretending his connections with dealers were real friendship, secretly creating a back story where his characters had loving parents and many siblings, cousins, and aunts. Not being Dale Jakes, not facing the reality of the Flaw and his inevitable, lonely death, kept him alive long enough to meet Karra.

Jakes was on desk duty at the time, after being shot in a bust a few weeks previously. He was at a bar with coworkers, because apparently that's something colleagues do, when he saw a beautiful girl. She was pretty, not like a model or movie star, but what set her apart was that she looked back at Jakes, made eye contact, smiled briefly, looked away, looked back, waved flirtatiously.

Jakes went to talk to her and felt for the first time in his life that he was almost touching another person, inching closer to her skin, fingertips only a brush away from a real connection. Passionate sex, cuddling afterward, sleeping in the same bed made him feel so close to Karra, but he still felt as though he was living his life inside of a fish bowl, watching as the smiling, shiny people outside lived with each other, loving, comforting, touching, laughing, as he struggled to stay afloat. Sometimes the sounds of others were muffled, and conversations seemed so far away, but nights with Karra made him feel as though he was nearly a part of something greater, something loving and familial.

And then his son ruined it all. Which sounds harsh, but the words "We're going to have a family" made Jakes realize that family was something he could never have.

So Graceland is a distraction, a good excuse. But Jakes still feels out of place there, even after years at the house. He drinks beer with the other occupants on the beach, watches movies with Paige, playfully argues with Johnny, but he's known from the beginning that makeshift family the others have formed is something he'll never truly be a part of.

Mike Warren makes it so much harder on Jakes, watching this new kid come in and effortlessly win Briggs' favor and flirt with Charlie and play beach football with Paige and Johnny. It just strengthens Jakes' belief in the Flaw, that one defining mystery that keeps him from his parents, from Karra, from his son, from Graceland, from the whole entire world.

Whenever he can, Jakes grabs his violin and drives to San Diego, finding a nice street corner, on which he becomes the Fiddler, his favorite cover of all. The synthetic interaction keeps him alive, despite knowing the other inhabitants of Graceland are laughing together at a bar or on the beach and that he wasn't that hard to replace, as a Son, as a Father, as a Roommate, as a Lover.

Deep down, Jakes hopes that, if he plays the part of the Fiddler—this friend of all that provides a comfort in the form of soft melodies that express the darkest fear of each person, who has a thousand close companions and potential and plans and parents that he's spoken to in the last five years—long enough, he might just become the Fiddler, shedding the skin of Dale Jakes IV, the one DJ hates most of all.

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A/N- So the beginning of this was to just create some feels so I could get back to writing About Today, but it had a mind of its own. Very angsty, probably not factual in the least, but it felt right at the time.

Also, I apologize for how long it's taking with About Today. For some reason, this chapter is really hard to write.

I hope you enjoyed this angsty little blurb! Review with grammar correction, comments, concerns, or conjectures.


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